Discovering the Shadows (A historical Shadowhunter story)
by chaddad97
Summary: Charles Duclot has always seen monsters that others have not. His family was killed when he was young and he managed to survive the monsters he sees, even through the perils of the American Civil War. Since there are always fewer monsters away from large cities, Charles has traveled to the American West hoping for a new start.
1. Chapter 1

**Late July, 1865, Sierra Nevada mountains, California**

Charles examined the end of his saber and was happy to see that all sign of the monster had disappeared, as usual. He calmed his breathing and looked around carefully while listening for any more sign of other creatures. He silently thanked his long-dead father for the skills that allowed him to the kill these creatures that others told him were in his imagination. He could have used his pistol, but he had learned a long time ago that explaining away the discharge of a weapon without a body only led to people questioning his sanity.

The sweat that burst out on his skin during the fight now made him shiver in the autumn air made all the cooler this high up in the mountains. He needed to get back to camp soon as his shift would start; Mr. Collins already thought Charles was a bit odd for working among the many Chinese laborers that had been recruited to build the Central Pacific portion of what was to be a transcontinental railroad. Charles had his own reasons, of course. Living in cities, the monsters were everywhere and he had to be constantly vigilant. Living on his own meant the monsters had no hesitancy to come after him without cessation. The key, he had found, was to live far from cities but among people. For whatever reason, the creatures that haunted him seemed to stay pretty far away from the Chinese camp and that meant he could simply work and sleep and eat without worrying about his life being in danger.

Until this morning, of course. He had wanted to get some air, free of the camp and the constant stink of the blasting powder so he walked out of camp before daybreak after waking and shaving with cold water. Then he had walked out of camp free of anyone asking him what he was doing. That was the beauty of working with the Chinese; none of them asked him any questions. Some of them knew a little English and he had learned a little Chinese in the months they had been working together. He had been with them since June, but for the past month they had been working on the tediously slow task of the railroad tunnels. The slow progress did not seem to trouble the hard-working Chinese and Charles just kept working alongside them and tried to imitate their serene attitude.

As he approached the camp he was surprised when a young man spotted him and ran up to him quickly.

"Mister, you come," he said quickly and repeated himself several times.

"My shift is starting," began Charles, but the young man, who was probably six inches shorter than Charles, continued to insist. Finally, Charles gave in and followed the obviously relieved young man. They wound among the tents and finally came to a larger-than-usual tent, outside of which stood another man who was taller than the normal Chinese man. The man nodded and pulled the tent flap open. Charles did a double-take as he passed; the man looked like an Indian wearing Chinese attire and hairstyle. He ducked carefully, trying to be subtle about keeping his hand near his sword, and entered the tent to see an ancient-looking Chinese man sitting on the ground next to a small bed and a lantern.

"Come, Mister Duclot, come; we must talk," said the man with only a slightly noticeable accent. Than in itself was surprising.

"What might we be talking about?" said Charles as he crouched across from the old man. Close up, he looked every bit his age and yet, extremely fit. He had never seen the old man before, but in a camp of thousands, that was not so surprising.

"Mister Duclot, you stink of demon," began the man, "and that is why we must talk."

"Demon? What do you mean I stink of demon? I don't even know what that means," said Charles.

"You might use a different word," said the man. "Creature, fiend, dragon, beast … monster."

Charles blinked. In all the years since his youth, not one person had acknowledged one of the grim realities of Charles' life—that there were things out there trying to kill him; that killed others; and that preyed on the weak and the innocent.

"You see them too?" asked Charles finally. "The … things."

"Yes, I see them, as does Honu, here, though I have no idea how he does it, since he does not possess any Shadowhunter blood," said the old man. He indicated the man who Charles suspected was an Indian, who had entered after Charles had. "You just killed one outside the camp."

Charles blinked again. How could this little man know any such thing? So he waited.

"Do you remember anything odd about your parents?" asked the old man. Again, Charles was thrown off by the question. His parents? They were his parents. They were who they were. Before he had a chance to go on the man continued. "Did one or both of them train you to fight at a young age? Did they seem overly paranoid about protecting you and your home?" Charles found himself sitting and staring into space, remembering his youth, his early memories, and their family home in Missouri. The old man's questions made him rethink everything he ever remembered about growing up. All of the Chinese man's questions had easy answers. Yes, yes, and yes.

"I see that you remember things in a different light," said the man softly. "How are they now? Your family?" This last was asked so quietly Charles barely heard it.

"Dead," he said without thinking. "All dead."

"How old were you?" said the man.

"Twelve," said Charles.

"Ah, and were you there? Did you see anything?"

"I was out playing in the fields," said Charles. "When I came back, our neighbors were there and I never saw the bodies. I questioned one man who I found years later and he told me the bodies had been mauled, like some wild animal had tried to kill them but not eat them."

"Monsters," said the old man.

Charles did not respond. It had always been a suspicion, but no one had ever confirmed the monsters and for a long time he had wondered if he was more than a little crazy. Knowing he was not felt like letting out a huge sigh after years of holding your breath. He followed the conversation back to a question of his own. "What are Shadowhunters?"

"Descendents of Jonathon Shadowhunter who have the blood of angels?" said the man. "The blood gives them … special abilities. They can see demons and make it their duty to prosecute them all over the world. They run centers called institutes in major cities all over the world to stay aware of trends in demon movement and provide coverage for as many people as possible."

"How do you know all this?" Charles asked suddenly.

"I grew up as a servant in the Shanghai institute, after one of the Shadowhunters rescued me off the street," said the man. "I worked for them for sixty years before I decided to accompany my people here to the United States."

Charles digested this and moved to his next question.

"So you are saying my parents were these Shadowhunters?" he asked.

"Undoubtedly," said the man. "One of them, at least."

"I never heard any of this from them," said Charles.

"There are reasons Shadowhunters leave," said the man. "The main one is that a Shadowhunter decides to marry a mundane."

"I'm sorry," said Charles. "A mundane?"

"Normal person; a non-Shadowhunter without special abilities," said the man. "It happens. When it does the Shadowhunter must leave and never have contact with Shadowhunters again."

"So they are banished," said Charles.

"By their own choice," he said. "There are times a mundane will join the Shadowhunters and take up their fight, but if they do not want to do that, they must leave."

His parents had always sounded different than others when they spoke. And they had taught him French. And his father had insisted on teaching him to use a sword and his hands and feet when he was very young. It was just how it was, but now he rethought a lot of things and pieces of the puzzle snapped into place: a British accent; knowledge of French; use of handheld weapons; no contact with any living relatives; and, of course, the fact that he could see these demons that no one else saw. Charles had felt isolated for much of his life and now he knew why.

"My mother was beautiful," he said. "Kind, intelligent, hard-working … " he trailed off, wondering what he was saying.

"In other words, a very fine woman; a woman for whom a man would give up everything to spend the rest of his life with her," finished the old man.

Charles felt very odd, sitting there talking about his family with a man he had never met. He looked up and saw compassion in the old man's eyes. Understanding.

Charles did not know what else to say. He had come to California for a change from everything he had seen and done while fighting for the Union until he had been severely wounded in Grant's Wilderness Campaign in the late spring of 1864. He had never expected to have a complete stranger rewrite all his family memories and explain why so many odd things had happened to him.

"You should seek them out," said the old man. "I sense you have a warriors hands and a compassionate heart. And you try to help people. My people here have told me you treat them with respect and kindness."

"How would I seek them out?" asked Charles.

"You could start in New York," suggested the man. "That is the largest institute in this country. They are not very well established here in America. Or go to England. Your accent has hints of England on your tongue so it is likely your parents may have come from there. Certainly there are going to be answers to questions."

"England," said Charles. "That is very far away."

"You have come very far already," said the man. "I believe your journey will end further away still."

Charles did nothing out of the ordinary for nearly a week. Or at least, on the surface it appeared ordinary. What actually took place was anything but ordinary. The old man, who never offered his name, felt it was his duty to make sure Charles was well-trained and surprisingly, his tool for this was the Indian Honu, who was surprisingly adept at using a Chinese Dao. The Dao was a broad bladed sword that was effective at slashing and chopping attacks which, explained the old Chinaman, was very effective again many types of demons which often had to be dismembered.

They also tried the longer, spear-like guan dao which was not so different than fighting with a staff, but Honu simply shook his head after less than an hour of practice and went back to the shorter, simpler dao. The old Indian was very quick, stronger than Charles, and extremely crafty. He rarely showed any emotion except to smile slightly when he was able to get inside his opponent's guard; determination when Charles pressed him hard and the occasional nod of respect when the younger man was able to strike him. He never spoke and seemed to have a near-telepathic method of communication with the old Chinese man. The man would nod and Honu would try a different tack or a different style of fighting.

Doing this while working would have been nearly impossible with the backbreaking load and by the third day of hauling rock and clashing swords, Charles was completely exhausted. The next day he went to find the old Chinaman who shook his head and told Charles it would be taken care of. And it was. He did not show up for work, he continued to walk among the tents and no one, including the Irish overseers, did not question him. After two weeks, the old man shifted tactics and had Honu take Charles deeper into the mountains to hunt and work with a bow. It was not that different from a rifle in terms of focus; muscle and breathing control; and the stance one took to fire.

Once they returned, the Chinaman nodded in approval after watching Charles place five of five arrows in a span the width of his hand from twenty-five yards away.

"You will not shoot too many deer from that range, but it gives you stand-off from demons," said the old man. "Killing a demon from far away is better than doing it up close."

"Why not use a pistol or rifle?" asked Charles.

"There are reasons," said the man. "Others can explain it better."

That was how the old man answered many questions. Someone else would answer his question better. Assuming, of course, that he went to England. And found someone to talk to him.

Honu also introduced Charles to the tomahawk as a hand-to-hand and throwing weapon. It was one of the only times he ever heard the man speak.

"Not my tribe; others bring over mountains; works well," he said. Charles interpreted that to mean that his tribe did not use the weapon, but others had brought them into the area and Honu liked it. The Indian could hit running rabbits at least one out of every four throws and could hit stationary targets twenty feet away. He spent a lot of time sharpening the hatchet's edge and was constantly fiddling with it.

"That tomahawk killed his family," said the old man one day when Honu was out. "His tribe is gone, run off by the gold diggers.

"How did he end up with you?" asked Charles.

"He was hungry," said the man and nothing more.

After a month of training, the old man said it was time for Charles to go and suggested he take ship from San Francisco. Charles told him he preferred walking to sitting on a ship and would cross the mountains and winter in Utah before continuing East.

"Do not stay in California," said Charles to the old man the morning he was ready to set out. "You have seen the way they treat you here. Go to Salt Lake City with your people. Those Mormons are odd in some ways, but they are kind to a fault and do not care where you came from or the color of your skin."

"Perhaps," said the old man. "Enough. My people will do what they will do. What are you going to do?"

"I am heading to Missouri," said Charles. "I have a safe-deposit box in St. Louis with papers and other odds and ends from my parents. I have never really been able to face what I might find it in it, but that may be my only clue to where I can start looking in England."

"That is good," said the man. "Begin there, but do not stop. The Shadowhunters need one like you in their fight. You can do much good."

"Perhaps," said Charles. "I will do what I will do." They shared a smile and then Charles bowed deeply to the man. "Thank you, Old One. You have given me much and I have returned you nothing."

"Not so," said the man. "You showed kindness to my people and treated them with respect. You are an exceptional man, Charles Duclot." He returned Charles' bow and then walked slowly back into camp. Charles set out and steadily climbed higher into the mountains, thinking on what the old man had said. After perhaps half a day of hiking, an odd feeling of being followed began, like an itch between his shoulder blades. Several times over the next few days he attempted to trap or set his eyes on whatever it was, fearing that demons might be pursuing him over the mountains. In all cases he failed and simply push on harder towards the summit. At the height of the pass, Charles looked back one more time and was surprised to see Honu standing in plain sight a half mile down the pass. When the man saw he had been sighted, the Indian raised a hand and then turned and began walking back down the pass.

Shaking his head, Charles continued on down the other side of the mountains to begin the long crossing of the high plains of Nevada and then the salty crossings of the flats of western Utah Territory.


	2. Chapter 2

**June 1866, Truro, Cornwall County, England**

When coming to England, Charles had been warned numerous times that it rained all the time and he had prepared accordingly, but apparently Truro and the little Cornwall Peninsula seemed to be the exception. The day was shiny and should have lifted his spirits, but instead it seemed the bright sunlight mocked his somber mood. He had reached a dead end.

A month of searching in local records had not given him any further clues about his parent's origin or helped him find any living relatives. Opening his safe-deposit box in St. Louis had been amazingly cathartic as he read the few letters between his parents. Mention of Charles as a baby, and his sister Catherine, helped him replace some of the guilty memories he had of surviving when the rest of his family had not. Clues in the letters had led him to this area of England but he suspected his parents had changed their names when they left.

His limited money was now gone and he had to make a decision. He could stay for about another month to search or he could book passage back to America. Further lingering would mean he would have to work before being able to return and either option meant he would likely arrive back in New York penniless. His attempt to find the institute in New York had been fruitless and he was having no more luck finding more clues in Truro.

Charles sat down on a bench and leaned on his walking stick. It was really a prop, and its main purpose was to house the hidden blade he had made during his winter in Salt Lake City. In exchange for splitting wood and other chores, a nice family had let him stay in a small, hastily-constructed room in their barn. The father had been a blacksmith and not asked any questions when Charles had asked him if he had ever made a sword. Together they had developed the design during the long, cold winter and when he set out in the spring, Charles had a subtle weapon and two tomahawks that were fairly easy to conceal. When Charles had said his likely destination was England, the Mormon settler had actually given him a letter to deliver to the man's family in Plymouth, where the man had been born.

It had taken him nearly a week in Plymouth to find the family, but their obvious joy at receiving the letter and their subsequent invitation to stay had more than made up for the money he had spent in the search. He told everything he had seen of the man's family over the course of two days before setting out for Truro to begin his search five weeks ago.

A movement caught his eye as a woman passed into his view across the street. She was well-dressed and tall, with dark curls falling over her shoulder and a parasol held over her head to shield from the sun. He watched her pass and realized he was staring and hastily looked elsewhere when something else caught his attention. Further behind, a man was walking behind her and to Charles eye, he seemed to be keeping an eye on her. The bigger problem was that his demon sense was going crazy and he subconsciously connected the stalker with the "smell" of something wrong.

He waited and followed at a distance, hoping the man would turn and the suspicion would prove groundless. But he did not.

Abruptly, the woman turned down an alley and Charles cursed silently; she was practically setting herself up for something bad. When the man followed her down the alley, Charles crossed the street quickly and cursed when he could not see either of them. He ran down the alley and checked the next intersection quickly. The woman was in the right fork brandishing her parasol like it was a weapon and the previously normal-appearing man had grown long claws out of his fingers. Charles darted down the alley and gave his walking stick a twist to free the blade which he swept out and buried in the back of the demon.

As the thing disappeared, he got a closer look at the woman. She was quite attractive and he forgot his situation for a moment as he stared at her. A widening of her eyes, slight intake of breath and the stench of demon brought him back to himself and he dove to his right and rolled to avoid the chittering of claws on the stones.

The demon he saw was familiar, having once fought one in the streets of Washington, D.C. and he backed up quickly and pulled a tomahawk out of his vest. He threw it left-handed, aiming for the cluster of eyes in the center of its face. The thing twitched its long, scaled body and his throw missed the eyes, but lodged in the scales at its neck. The heinous creature screamed in pain and swung its barbed tail in his direction. Charles purely defensive reaction brought up the blade and swung two-handed; he felt the shock down his arms and amazingly, sheared right through the tail. Unfortunately, the severed end of the tail caught him in the head and knocked him back several steps to bump his back into a wall.

The demon swung to face him then and screamed in pain and rage, spittle flying from its mouth. He threw up an arm to shield his face and heard the slight sizzle as it landed on his coat sleeve. He swung the blade hastily to keep the beast back and was surprised when another blade hacked at the creature's face and took out its eyes. Without sight, the beast thrashed wildly until the woman calmly severed a foreleg; after that it was just mopping up as the demon flopped to one side and Charles took out its other foreleg and then leaped on its head to drive his blade straight down into its skull. It stopped thrashing then and disappeared a moment later.

Charles landed awkwardly and caught his balance with the point of his blade before crouching in a defensive stance and spinning quickly to survey the area. The woman was calmly wiping her blade on a kerchief which she quickly dropped, and then reinserted the blade into the end of her parasol.

"Nice parasol," he said. She looked up and met his gaze with a small smile.

"Likewise with your walking stick," she said. "I am not sure why you followed me, but your help was welcome. I had not counted on a Ravener Demon. Killing one of those alone would not have been easy."

Charles snorted. "The last one I met put me in bed for a week and weak for a fortnight."

She gave him a sharp glance. "By yourself?"

"Well no one else could see it, could they?" he said. He was about to offer his handshake when a movement over her shoulder caught his eye and he reacted without thinking. "Duck!" he yelled in his best Sergeant Duclot voice that had inspired obedience on many a battlefield. Fortunately, the woman knew the voice of command when she heard it and dropped immediately as Charles hurled his other tomahawk at a vicious-looking winged creature that was diving at her back. His aim was true this time and the weapon intercepted the thing mid-air and plummeted to the ground with a scream before winking out. He spun and searched the area again, this time watching the sky. When nothing presented itself he turned back to the woman to see her examining his hatchet.

"That was a very precise throw," she complimented him as she handed back his weapon. He replaced it and offered his hand.

"A little bit lucky, to hit a moving creature," he said. "Charles Duclot."

She took his hand. "French? But your English sounds American."

"And your English sounds French, mademoiselle," he said, releasing her hand.

"Et vous parlez francais?" she asked.

"Oui," he said in surprise. "Mais ca fait tres longtemps depuis le dernier fois j'ai entendu ma mere parler."

"Mais vous parlez bien," she replied. "Your mother was French?"

"I do not know for sure," he said. "But my suspicion is yes."

"Well, Charles," she began and he smiled at her French pronunciation of his name with a 'sh' sound rather than a "ch" sound, "your help was very timely. I must offer you my thanks."

"But not your name, apparently," he chided.

"Ah, desolee," she said. "Je m'appelle Elise. Pardonnez-moi." Her eyes widened. "You are hurt."

Charles looked down at his ragged sleeve and then saw what she had noticed; he had a darkening stain along his ribs under his left arm.

"Oh, damn," he said. He was having flashbacks of that miserable week in the streets of D.C. when he had been crazy out of his mind and unable to keep down any food.

"Not to worry," she said. "Let me take care of it. It is the least I can do." He raised an eyebrow at her, wondering what she was talking about. She reached into a hidden pocket in her dress and removed a slender, silvery rod about eight or nine inches long. "Will you remove your vest, please." She raised his arm and bent slightly to examine his cut. "You caught one of the spurs on its tail, I think." She tore open the slice in his shirt and put one end of the rod against his skin and began to trace a pattern on his skin. It left a faint white line and when she stood, looking satisfied, the pattern felt like it "tightened" on his skin and he sucked in air in surprise as the cut from the demon began to fade and then disappeared entirely. There was still some blood soaked into the material of his white shirt and dried on the skin, but the wound was entirely gone.

Charles staggered until his back was against the wall.

"What 'ees wrong?" she asked quickly, looking at him with concern.

"What did you … what did you do to me?" he asked in shock.

"I used a healing rune," she said. "It looks like it worked perfectly. Did something go wrong?"

Charles mouth moved several times, but he could not think of anything to say. Elise walked over to him, concern in her eyes. "Who are you? You seemed surprised that that worked."

"I came to England looking for answers; my family, anything to explain why I can see monsters when no one else does," he said. "_That _was not something I expected."

"You have Shadowhunter blood or that would not have worked, but you have never seen a stele used before," she said. "Come. Let us go to the Institute. Perhaps we can both find some answers." She led him away, at times taking side streets and alleys and other times using main roads. She walked with a relaxed air, arm-in-arm with Charles, but she kept a tight grip on the handle of her parasol-sword and she scanned the side streets quickly and carefully. Finally, they walked up to a large, near-ancient looking church.

"Your Institute is in a church?" he asked in surprise.

"Almost all of them are, at least in Europe," she explained, pulling him forward. "Holy ground prevents vampires from entering."

Charles jerked to a stop so quickly that his arm jerked out of her grip. "Vampires? Are you serious? What about werewolves? Are you going to tell me those are real, too?"

"Well, yes," she said looking exasperated.

"Frankenstein? How about him? What about mummies?"

"Those are just stories," she said and turned and walked toward the church.

"Vampires and werewolves were just stories, too, until today," he mumbled to himself and followed her to the door. She entered and led him through a series of passages that did not look like the inside of a church at all. He followed quietly, his sense of anticipation building. He matched Elise's long strides until she came to a solid wooden door, knocked and then entered.

A man, sitting behind a large wooden desk, apparently sifting through papers, looked up as they entered. The family resemblance was plain, so Charles guessed quickly it was her father, or a much older brother; if Elise was his daughter then she had been born when he was very young. He looked fit, certainly, with slight streaks of grey in his hair and a slightly receding hairline, but likely in his late-forties or early fifties. He had very broad, powerful-looking hands covered with thin, spidery white lines.

His initial look of affection changed to concern and he stood quickly.

"Have you been hurt? Were you in a fight?" he said quickly.

"Sit down, Father," she said. "I'm fine. Just a little soiled. I brought the man who helped me kill a Ravener demon."

"A Ravener?" said the man in surprise. "What was a …?"

"Later, Father, I need to introduce you to Charles Duclot," she said, turning to Charles. "Charles, this is my father."

The man's head spun to Charles and he began to offer his hand before freezing, shock evident on his face. Charles had never really understood the saying 'white as a ghost' until now; the man looked like he was searching for something, something he really wanted to find.

"Father? Father, what is it?" Elise was looking from her father to Charles and back.

"Duclot, you say?" said the man finally. "Your mother's name?"

"I do not know," said Charles. "It was the only family name I had."

"But your mother was French?"

"She taught me French, and spoke it, so I would guess she was," said Charles.

"Elise, will you go and find Stiles for me, please," asked her father. "It is not an emergency, but he will want to come quickly."

If anything, Elise looked even more confused, but nodded and left.

"I apologize for forgetting my manners, Charles," said the man offering his hand again. "My name is Lamar Bodine. I am the head of the Cornwall Institute. I am sure you have many questions, and we will answer them shortly, but for the moment I wish you to meet someone first."

"You plainly suspect who I am," said Charles. "You knew my father and you think I look like him."

Lamar blinked and looked at Charles again. "Yes. You are very observant, Charles. Wait with me a moment." They stood silently until Elise reentered with another man in tow. He was so obviously similar to Charles' father that he knew immediately the man was his uncle. His father had looked much like Charles himself, slim, just a bit under six feet tall with dark brown hair and a prominent nose. The man who entered was likely three or four inches taller and much heavier, with lighter, straw-colored hair and he radiated an air of … not menace exactly, but certainly controlled violence or maybe intensity.

He gave Charles a slight glance before turning to Lamar. "What is this about Lamar? I was in the middle of training."

"You know I would not waste your time, Stiles," said Lamar. "I wanted you to meet your nephew."

Stiles spun and looked, really looked, at Charles. The change in the man's expression was startling. His hard face softened, his eyes glazed with moisture, and tears began to flow.

"My boy, my boy, oh my dear boy," said Stiles and stepped forward, not aggressively but with open, welcome arms and to his surprise, Charles stepped forward and hugged the man. For his part, his new uncle made Charles' ribs creak with the strength of his arms. After so much searching and wondering, he had found a family and maybe a home here that he had never expected. He found himself clinging to the man as if letting go would make it all disappear like waking from a dream.

Finally, Stiles held him back at arm's length, and looked at him again. "Did you come on your own or did my brother send you?"

"The rest of my family was killed by demons when I was twelve," said Charles quietly. "My parents, and I also had a sister." Stiles eyes closed and his head dropped for a moment. A deep breath later and a smile was back on his face.

"You are here now, and for that I am glad," said Stiles.

"As am I," said Lamar. "We two were his best friends. Maybe we can tell you a few things about your father and you can tell us what your family did after he left."

"Was he at this institute?" asked Charles.

"Yes, we all grew up here," said Stiles. "Our father was the director then."

"So how did he meet my mother?" asked Charles.

Now a pained looked passed over both the men's faces. It was Lamar who answered. "He went abroad to visit other institutes. He met her in Paris. But that is starting the story in the middle and we could stand here all day before we finished. Elise, will you have Robert find Charles a room. We are only a few minutes from dinner and we can introduce him to the rest of the institute then."

"You think that Meg is going to be amused when you spring Charles on him in front of everyone?" asked Lamar.

Stiles scowled. "On second thought, Charles, would you mind coming with me to meet my wife… your aunt I guess. She knew Miles very well, too."

"Of course, sir," said Charles. Elise touched him on the arm before they left the room.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Charles; your help was most timely as it was unexpected," she said. "I will see you at dinner. Afterwards we will find you a room and perhaps we can retrieve your things from where you stayed before." She kissed him once on each cheek and then smiled at him before turning crisply on her boot heel and striding off.

"Well Elly seems quite taken with Charles," said Stiles, elbowing his friend in the ribs.

"He saved her from a Ravener demon in the city," said Lamar.

"What? Please tell me she was not out demon-trapping again," said Stiles.

"Probably," said Lamar as they led Charles down the hall. "Let us have Charles tell us what happened."

As they walked, he related the incident and the details of the demons size and features as well as how they killed it and the creature that had flown in attack afterwards.

"You sound like a more than competent fighter, Charles, did my brother train you himself?" asked Stiles.

"He started when I was five and continued until he was killed," said Charles. "After that, frontier life sort of demanded you know how to hunt with guns and survive in harsh conditions. Then, I served for the Union army in the American Civil War for four years."

"Well then you have probably seen more fighting than most Shadowhunters, though likely not of the demon kind," said Lamar.

"Oh, monsters have been following me for years, sir," said Charles. "I went back to practicing the sword because shooting them with rifles and pistols made a lot of noise and brought too much attention when you could not produce a body."

Lamar and Stiles shared a look.

Just then they arrived at a heavily-carved door and knocked before entering. Sitting inside was a middle-aged woman with blonde hair, a trim figure and kindly face that looked up with affection when her husband entered. Sitting beside her was young woman, perhaps twenty, with similar features, though much taller and muscular in appearance with striking blue eyes. His cousin. Another member of the family.

"Dear, you will not believe who has returned to us," said Stiles without preamble. The woman's eyes shifted quickly to Charles and she stared for a moment and then smiled and stood abruptly.

"Dare I hope this might be my nephew?" she asked.

"You might," said Stiles.

If anything, the woman's smile grew broader and it was so welcoming that when she open her arms he took two large steps and embraced her warmly.

"I have always prayed some part of him might find its way home," she whispered in his ear. "I am so glad you have come. Please call me Aunt Meg. I do not think I can hear it enough coming from Miles' boy."

"Yes, Aunt Meg," he said obediently when he stepped back. His cousin, named Dellia, gave him a smile and a small hug as well. They talked for a few minutes before a young boy knocked and told them dinner was ready. If was highly amusing to see how Aunt Meg, the smallest person in the room herded everyone out into the hall and on their way to wash and ready for dinner.

Elise was waiting outside and showed him to a room with a hastily-stocked wardrobe and a large basin of water with towels.

"We looked for clothes that might fit, but looking at your trousers, they are only a little scuffed. Just find a new vest perhaps, or maybe a coat you like. I will wait outside."

Charles washed and dressed quickly, had a go at his hair in with the comb and mirror, brushed the dust off his shoes and decided they would just have to take him as he was.

"You look very nice, Charles; do not worry about how it fits," said Elise when he commented.

"Well, I certainly do not look anywhere near as attractive as you are," he said. She blushed and smiled before leading him off. Introductions at dinner were somewhat less spectacular than earlier, the most enthusiasm coming from Elise's little brother, who was visiting with her from Paris. It was unspoken, but it became apparent that her mother was not here at the Institute with her father.

He also received an enthusiast welcome from a male cousin named Abram, who turned out to be born within three days of Charles own birthday. His wife and two children were also with him.

They asked him many questions about his family and how he had found them in Cornwall and one older Shadowhunter questioned him about the Chinese man who had set him on this path.

The man's name was Jerald and he had apparently met the Chinaman. "Sun Hi was a fixture at the Shanghai Institute for six decades," said the man. "In his prime, very few Shadowhunters could defeat him with a sword and that is no mean feat for a mundane. He must be more than eighty now. Where did you say you met him?"

"In the Sierra-Nevada mountains in the west of the United States," answered Charles. "The government hired a huge number of Chinese workers to build the railroad to connect both sides of the country."

"Is America really so big?" said one of Abrams young boys who were just eating up the tales of mountains and Indians and railroads.

"When it is finished, it will only take eight or nine days to cross from one coast to the other," said Charles.

"Nine days," said Abrams wife, "of continuous riding on a railroad? What a nightmare. I will take travel by portal."

"Portal?" asked Charles. Sometimes they used terms that made no sense to him.

"It is a way to travel great distances," filled in Elise.

"The wonders never end," said Charles. "Anything that keeps me off a boat has to be a good thing."

They all agreed at that, except one of the boys, who said he wanted to take a boat sometime. This kind of warmth and dinner companionship was something he had missed since spending the winter with the Mormon family in Utah, but more importantly since his family dinners back in Missouri. In the midst of conversation he found tears running down his face and suddenly he missed his family in a way he had not considered since shutting out those feelings when they died. His Aunt Meg looked at him across the table at the same time Elise noticed, sitting next to him. Meg rose and walked around the table and Elise put her hand in his and gave him a comforting squeeze. Meg hugged him tightly to her and stroked his hair while the tears came out. Soon he felt other hands on his shoulder, pats on the back and heard comforting words murmured. When he finally wound down, he looked around, slightly embarrassed and saw nothing but loving faces regarding him.

"Thank you all, so much," he said.

"Welcome home, my boy," said Stiles.


	3. Chapter 3

The immediate family eventually adjourned to a comfortable room to talk and various family members came and went throughout the evening. They seemed to skirt around the topic of why Charles' father had left the Shadowhunters and concentrated on telling family stories. The other topic that was not brought up involved Elise's mother somehow and once the evening had broken up, Elise had taken his arm and offered to escort him back to his room.

She began to speak as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.

"You might have noticed a uncomfortable silence whenever we ventured close to mentioning my mother," she began, and then paused.

"I would not say it was uncomfortable; you all seem very adept at circling around the subject," he said.

"Well, yes, you see, she and my father do not really speak anymore," said Elise. "Not since an argument following my brothers' death."

"Your second brother," he noted.

"Yes, dear Silas," she said. She took a deep breath and went on, more quietly. "Silas was … well, he was … " she walked a few more steps. "Silas was an intense child and even more intense teenager. He was faultlessly polite, very kind, but entirely too focused on hunting demons and not enough on living life. He is not alone among us to have that problem, but he was very driven to change the world. When he became an adult, instead of touring other institutes he asked for the most dangerous assignments. Normally, one that inexperienced would not be considered, but he had a way of convincing people …" she trailed off again as they arrived at his door. She stopped and considered for a moment.

"May I come in to finish this?" she asked. "I do not really want to do it standing here in the hall, but some might not think it proper."

"I do not really have that kind of reputation with the young ladies," he teased.

"Well, I am hardly young anymore," she said.

He raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Really, well, then you hold your years well."

"How old are you?" she asked very pointedly.

"I will twenty-eight in a few weeks," he said.

"I turned thirty in April, and so we can get another uncomfortable subject out of the way, I am a widow of eight years as well," she said. Charles had no idea how to reply to that, so he just nodded and opened his door. She preceded him in and sat in one of the two chairs at a small table.

"Door, open or closed?" he asked.

"Oh, please close it," she said. "I am long past worrying about what others think of my ladylike manners." When he had sat himself, she went on. "I tell you this so we do not have to delude ourselves, we two. The rest of my family is very adept at ignoring things that are right in front of them. Sooo, Silas .. My mother thought he should stay home more, but my father said he was old enough to make his own decisions. Father did not actually encourage Silas, but he never turned down a request to train him and he pushed Silas to excel more than anyone else he trained, mostly because Silas practically demanded it. You never left a training session with Silas without a few bruises. Not because he was trying to show you up, but simply because everything was real to him. He would never do anything to hurt you, but not hitting you in training when you should have done better was doing you a disservice."

"I had a few instructors like that over the years; most of them were just bullies," said Charles.

"And that is the crazy thing about Silas; he was not a bully in any way," said Elise. "He would go out of his way to avoid conflicts with other people. All his passion was for killing demons."

"But you cannot keep taking risks forever without one coming back to get you," said Charles.

"Yes, two years went by and the Shadowhunters were hailing him as … not exactly a savior, but certainly something special. And he was. No one could compete with Silas. He was that rare combination of strength and quickness combined with too little fear. He was deadly but entirely too reckless.

"He was also best friends with my husband," she said. "Though I was not yet married when Silas died. They were quite a pair, Silas and Hiram. I sort of tagged along behind them for years, basking in their glory. I do not think Hiram really ever noticed me until after Silas died." She appeared lost in thought and Charles guessed she was recalling some sweet or bitter memory. "Anyway, Silas was killed in a demon ambush and mother blamed Father for not reining him in at such a young age. It was not fair. She knew him as well as anyone and there was nothing you could do to make him listen.

"Our family had lived at the Paris Institute my whole life where my dad was in charge of training," she went on. "Things became … very difficult … especially for little Richard. He did not understand what was happening because he did not know Silas very well, and he was too young. Nina and I tried to smooth things over, but mother was stubborn. Father tried to apologize, do anything that might make it better, but she was having none of it. Well, Father has his pride and he would put up with that for only so long; when the Institute opening here in Cornwall came before the Clave, they granted him the director's title. Christopher went with him, but Richard, Nina and I stayed in Paris. I wanted to go, but he told me I should stay with Nina and Richard. Leaving Paris and coming here was considered a large step down and that also infuriated Mother."

"And they have not spoken since?" he asked quietly. It sounded too much like the finality of his own family's departure from England to America.

"Our community is too small to avoid each other entirely, but there is a cold distance between them," she said. "It is very sad, what happened to their group of friends. Mother, Father, Stiles, Megan, and your father; they were all very, very close."

"I cannot imagine my father leaving such a community," he said quietly.

"As for that, I cannot help you, beyond saying that he came to visit Father in Paris the year I was born and saved your mother from a demon," said Elise. "My father has admitted to me that your mother was a beautiful and charismatic woman, but all your father's friends argued with him that it was wrong. I think Father was so shocked to see you because he told me the last words he had with your father involved accusations of 'traitor to his people' or some such language. They were young and he said he always regretted it."

That seemed to exhaust her store of conversation and she went silent before standing and moving to the door. She opened it and bid him a polite good evening before turning back.

"Forgive me for being presumptuous, but my family and friends are overly protective of me, and think I will break in pieces for talking about Silas and my husband; I am not," she said. "I would hate for them to discourage you from … getting to know me. That would be a shame." She smiled and closed the door behind her.

Charles had thought he would have a hard time sleeping after the most tumultuous day of his entire life, but something about the peaceful quiet of the institute and the perceived warmth of having found a family put his mind to rest. He fell asleep almost immediately.

Over the days that followed, Charles was not sure he was ever going to stop being surprised. The stele had been the tip of the spear compared to what followed after it. Glamour, mundane, angels, Alicante, seraph blades and Downworlders. The list went on and each time he had to shake his head and nod. It was crazy; almost too much to take in at once. When his cousin Dellia mentioned Faeries he could not take anymore and went back to his room for a while.

After about thirty minutes he recognized Elise' knock at the door and welcomed her in.

"They told me that Faeries pushed you over the edge," she said.

"You just cannot imagine," he said. "It is like someone telling you the sun is green and then you walk outside and they are correct."

"Well, father thinks that maybe we have been a little too hasty with so much information all at once; he asked if you would like to do some training," she said.

"We are not going to learn how to turn invisible or anything like that are we?" he asked.

"Nope," she said. "That is something to learn another time. How about swords?"

"Swords," he mused. "It sounds so mundane compared to everything I have learned. Even the word mundane means something different. Swords. I can do swords." He stood up and then something hit him. "Wait! Did you say turning invisible was something for another time? You can do that?"

"Well, yes, there is a rune for it," she admitted.

He shook his head again. "Swords sound like a great idea," he said and then noticed how she was dressed. She wore what people would call "men's" clothes, but in the light of her offer he immediately shifted his paradigm a bit and thought of them as fighting clothes. From bottom to top she wore slim, lace-up leather boots with the trousers tucked in, a loose shirt, and her dark hair was pulled back severely from her face in a long pony tail. She looked quite different and it was not the clothes; her stance, expression and body language were more aggressive. He followed her to the training room that he had been shown earlier on a tour of the institute, but now he walked around and examine the weapons and armor. He had been surprised to see they did not use any firearms and then surprised at the explanation why. The sun was green.

He limbered up and then was amused to see that he had an audience. Both of Abram's young son's were there with their father, as was Dallia and Elise's brother Richard, though the later two were the only ones in gear. Stiles was there as well, as the head of Institute Training.

"Just warm up and show us what you can do, Charles," said Stiles. A small smile crept across his face. "She will take it easy on you."

Elise gave a most unladylike snort and took an en garde position. "Tu est prêt?"

"Oui, commencez!" he said and she came at him with a steady, if not overwhelming attack. He met the attack easily and they began to circle back and forth with their practice swords, smoothly shifting stances and trying different techniques. After perhaps ten minutes of sparring, Stiles called a halt. While Charles felt like he had plenty of breath left, his arms were screaming at him. Too little practice had left him with much less endurance than when he had been training with Honu.

"You technique is fine, but you clearly need more regular conditioning," announced Stiles.

"I cannot disagree there," said Charles. "I have not been in a position to practice for some time now."

"Well, it shows a bit, but it is not like we have to take a guy off the street and train him with a sword," said Bran. He let the boys go and they ran up to Charles and peppered him with all sorts of questions which he could not possibly have answered without a week of time. \

Elise winked at him and smiled. "Another round? Unless Abram wants to have a go."

"No, I am fine for now Elise," he said. "I do not need you showing me up again." He smiled when he said it, but he sensed he was complimenting Charles by implying he was able to hold his own with Elise.

"I know you are not used to it, but our women fight as readily as our men," said Stiles.

"Oh, I already saw her hack the head off a 'gator demon," he said.

"I did not 'hack' its head off," said Elise dryly. "I just poked it in the eye."

"Well, it distracted the thing from eating me," said Charles.

Elise gave him a direct look. "Modesty is a wonderful trait in a man; let us not take it too far."

They worked with other weapons throughout the afternoon until Charles muscles were screaming. By then the others had long since lost interest, so he was alone with Elise.

"I am not going to enjoy waking up tomorrow morning," he groaned.

"Probably not," she said. "You worked entirely too hard trying to impress me for someone who has not been doing regular training."

"Was I so obvious?" he asked, coloring slightly.

"Yes," she said. "You did not notice Abram and Stiles' smiles when they were leaving and you said you still needed some more work?"

"I guess not," he admitted.

"You have created quite a conflict in the family, actually," she said.

"How so?" he said, slightly alarmed.

"Their desire to be overprotective towards me is warring with their obvious joy at seeing the son of their dear brother and friend," she explained. "They are not really sure how to react. It is really quite amusing to watch. They have been chasing away potential suitors for years."

"What does your mother think?" he asked.

She snorted. "My mother thinks I should have three or four children by now. But even she cannot make up her mind because she had memorialized Silas and Hyrum's memories to the point where no man could ever live up to them. She wants me to remarry but does not think any man is good enough for me."

"Ah, the joy of family relationships," he said with such irony that she laughed and he joined her.

Another question came to mind for Charles. "So do you live here, or are you visiting with Richard?"

"I live here now and Richard has been _visiting_ for the past year or so," said Elise. "It has become more or less permanent. My older brother Christopher lives with his family in Alicante and Nina's husband obtained a post in Cape Town."

"So your mother stayed in Paris?" he asked.

"Yes, she runs the library there for the family in charge," she said.

"Well, I am a little old for going on an Institute tour, but I think we should at least visit Paris," he said.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," she said. "_We_ should do that."

"I am sure I am likely breaking some Shadowhunter rule, but I would like to look for my mother's family."

"Technically, you would be, but since they cannot consider you a true Shadowhunter yet, then they can hardly object," she said with a wink.

"You do not really strike me as one who is very concerned about 'the rules'," he commented.

"Not when they are stupid and are put in place to force people to do what you want," she said. "I heard all the arguments when I was in school, learned all the reasons, but it is really silly. We only diminish ourselves when we force that choice."

"So are you saying you will show me Paris?" he asked.

"All you need do is ask, my dear," she said and took his arm as they walked out of the training room.

Time seemed to speed by at the Institute as Charles drank in all the new ideas and history of the Shadowhunters. While at times it was heavy reading, the Codex continually brought exclamations of amazement each time he learned something new and extraordinary. Against the protests of the rest of the family, Elise began to take him out with her patrolling for demons. Apparently this was not particularly common practice, but when pressed, both her father and Charles' uncle admitted she was very good at it.

Before he could be useful to him, he needed nice clothes so that they would be an expensively dressed and well-matched pair.

"Rich fools out courting," was how she put it. In truth, he was quite pleased that they were able to spend so much time together alone. For the most part they simply walked about, for all appearances enjoying themselves. As he began to see the pattern, Charles realized that he had, of course, seen her first on one such attempt to trap demons. Apparently the part to which everyone objected was that she went out often by herself. That was unusual.

"I cannot begin to tell you how nice it is to have a decent fighting companion," she expressed one day. In the two weeks they had been patrolling, they had killed demons three different times and had one run-in with a vampire. After the vampire incident, Charles stopped acting surprised and he and Elise shared his favorite new saying. "The sun is green today."

None of the creatures they had met so far had been anywhere near as dangerous as the Ravener demon they had encountered on their first meeting. Most were demons impersonating and attempting to prey upon humans. It was always tricky to stalk or track demons because you had to wait for them to transform before you acted so you could not shoot them with a crossbow from a safe distance. Despite all that, none of them had managed to wound either of them since the first incident.

"Before, I had to practically sneak out of the institute or hear an endless lecture from father or Stiles," she continued. "Even worse was the wordless look Aunt Meg would give me. That one is a master at producing guilt."

"How do you normally go about this?"

"Usually in pairs or groups," she said. "There is no real procedure for hunting demons. Too often we are reactionary and only find them after they have already done great harm."

"Well, I am thinking it may be time to vary the routine a bit," he suggested.

"Oh, and what do you have in mind?" she asked.

"I do not know, but if I learned anything on my many patrols during the war, it is that you should never show your enemy a pattern," he said. "Make it too easy for them and they have taken the initiative. "

"What was the purpose of these patrols you did?" she asked thoughtfully.

"To keep the enemy from surprising you and find out the positioning and composition of your forces," he said.

"So you were trying to avoid ambushes," she said. "We are trying to attract them."

"Indeed, but I am guessing they were onto your pattern and sent the Ravener to dispatch you," he said. "What would have happened if there had been two?"

"You would have killed one and I would have killed one," she said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Maybe, or maybe they would have killed both of us," he said.

"That's a morbid thought," she said.

"But possible," he said. "The sergeant who trained me was insane about varying our routine and being different every time. When General Hooker needed to find out where anyone was, he sent out our squad because we always came back with the needed intelligence. And then, at the Battle of Chancellorsville, we walked right into the Confederate's main body flanking attack. Sergeant Elam took a shot right to the head. I got to him first but he was dead. Of our ten men, only four of us made it back to report and Hooker was too slow to believe us that we had seen such a large force.

"Sometimes, even the best preparation cannot account for bad luck," he finished.

Neither of them spoke for some time.

"Sometimes I forget that you have seen more fighting and battle than many us will ever see in our entire lives," she said. "I only know about your American conflict in broad terms, but it is amazing that you survived four years of such fighting. I would be very foolish to discount such good advice. Let us go back to the institute."

Instead of continuing on their current path, they stopped and crossed the street to a hat shop and Charles made such fun of the ridiculous fashions currently available that Elise was nearly doubled over in laughter. Eventually the scandalous looks from the shopkeeper drove them out but the laughter continued down the street and more than one passerby looked at them oddly. The final cross street that would take them back to the institute was strangely quiet and devoid of foot traffic as they turned down it. Had he not been telling a humorous story of one patrol concerning his former sergeant he might not have noticed, but his former leader's caution still floated there in the back of his thoughts.

"So there we were all hyped up for a fight and out walks a raccoon from the bushes …" said Charles. A bird called and something about it rang oddly in his ears. He stopped dead and looked around. A dark cloud was covering the sun and the shadows were just lengthening in early afternoon. The trees overhead added to the oddly dark afternoon. "I do not think that was a bird," he said, just as a demon he had never seen before burst on them from behind the bole of a large tree. Several more followed it quickly and Charles hazarded a quick look behind and saw another coming across the street. He had never seen their like before but apparently they were familiar to Elise.

"Moloch demons," she said and had her blade out of its sheath in the next heartbeat.

"I got the one behind us," he said and spun to face it. It looked a bit like a wolf, but with scaly hide instead of fur and claws way too large for its legs.

"Careful, they spit fire," said Elise calmly. In that case, distance is better, he thought and heaved a tomahawk at it from a few feet away. Its shrill cry was unnerving, but the hatchet buried in its snout between where its eyes would have been. It reared and clawed at the hatchet with its grotesque hooked, claws, conveniently exposing its softer belly which he opened up with a broad two-handed swipe. Sure enough, flames shot out of its head, but fortunately pointed the other direction. Charles kicked it hard and hacked it once on the ground. When it disappeared, he picked up his tomahawk and turned back to Elise, who was fending off the other two with her blade in one hand and her parasol in the other.

Unfortunately, her dress was also on fire.

He swapped hands and threw right-handed, but the beast attacked at the wrong moment and he missed completely.

"Coming on your left," he yelled and rushed one demon with his other tomahawk and blade in hand. By some sense other than sight it shifted towards him and he ducked under the flame to impale his blade down its throat. He used the crude control of the blade to position the head and hew its neck with the tomahawk. A flailing clawed foot caught in the material of his coat but he was wearing long greaves underneath and he batted the attack aside and kicked it hard. It flopped on its back and he hacked it several times before it disappeared as well.

With the smell of smoke in his nose he turned to see the other demon gone and Elise rolling over and over in the dirt. This proved effective and he ran to offer her a hand up. Her hair was disheveled, half her dress was blackened by fire and she was covered in dust. She took his proffered hand and rose. When he made to let go she gripped it harder and pulled him in close.

"Do you want to know why I am so very fond of you?" she asked, taking him completely by surprise. For once he did not have a witty comeback. "Because when we were attacked by three demons you did not tell me to run; you did not tell me to stay behind you; you simply summed up the situation, told me your planned action and went to work assuming I would take care of myself."

"Well, other than catching fire, you survived just fine," he began.

"And did you tackle me to put it out? No. You killed the other demon and let me take care of it," she said. "Hyrum treated me that way. Every other man I have met since he died has felt the need to protect me." And then she kissed him. Hard.

He came up for air, blinking in surprise and still could not think of a witty remark.

"Are you injured at all?" she asked, as if nothing else had happened.

"I do not think so," he said and then conducted a quick examination. "How bad are your burns?"

"I was wearing armor under the dress," she said. "It does not even hurt at this point."

"I had no idea; that must have been warm, walking around," he said.

"You think so?" she said and he laughed. "Let us depart."

They hurried down the street and Charles commented that it was odd _nobody_ was out.

"I wonder if changing our course so suddenly threw off their ambush that they had planned for elsewhere," she said.

"Do these … what did you call them?" he asked

"Molch demons," she supplied.

"Yeah, those. Do they normally fight in packs?"

"Yes."

"So seeing three of them was not unusual," he said.

"No; normally they come in groups of four, five or six," she said. "That was what made me wonder if our change threw them off." They emerged from the tree-lined street and turned toward the institute. At that moment the sun came out and the feeling of foreboding dissipated.

"Five or six of those things," he mumbled. "Now that would have been ugly."

"Very much so," she said. "Shadowhunter gear does not burn easily, but taking them on in a dress was a bad idea. Not that we had much choice."

They arrived at the institute and entered. Charles offered to scout ahead and give her warning. "You know what they are going to do when they see your dress."

"I have a better idea," she said and turned down a corridor, took stairs down below ground level and went into what appeared to be a clothes washing area. She found a laundry bag and removed her dress with his help, which she stuffed in the bag and handed to Charles. "Figure out a way to get rid of that," she said.

"You still smell like smoke," he pointed out.

"Then it is off to the baths for me," she said. She kissed him quickly and was out the door with him holding the sack. He wandered about for a while and eventually found the container where they dumped their trash. It was quite ripe with old food and things, so Charles doubted the smell would be a problem. Finding his way back to his room was a challenge, but Hattie, the cook found him and set him on the correct path.

"Given the furtive scurrying of Mistress Elise and your present state of rumpled attire, either you and the miss were naughty at the park or you met more demons and are trying to cover it up," she said. Hattie was cheerful, loved to cook and loved to eat her cooking. She was a bit plump, but since she trained with Elise as well, he knew she happened to be quite wicked with a hand axe and had enjoyed learning to throw his tomahawk so well she was having some made for herself. 'Just something to keep in the pocket, you know,' she had said.

"While I am sure I would have enjoyed the former, I fear the latter would be more true," he admitted.

Her bark of laughter rang down the hallway.

"Well, here you are," she said. "One left and one right from here."

"Thank you," he replied and managed to make it back to his room unnoticed.

Elise asked him to accompany her to discuss the attack with her father and the door to his office was open when they arrived.

Lamar looked up at them, squinted a bit and then offered them both a chair.

"I am guessing from the looks on your faces that you are about to tell me you encountered more demons today," he began.

"Yes, Father," said Elise. She could sound amazingly contrite when she wished.

"I suppose this is the best way," he said. "Obviously you came back or you would not be sitting here, so now you can gloss over the dangerous details and tell me it was a stroll in the park."

Charles gave Elise a look and said, deadpan, "Elise's dress caught on fire."

"Charles," she said, exasperated. "How is that glossing over the details?"

"But she had her armor on and neither of us were injured," he said quickly.

She gave him another withering look and went on in a more dignified fashion. "They were Moloch demons. We came at us on Stewart Way from behind the large trees there. Charles identified another coming from behind so went to dispatch it while I held off the others. Once finished with the one, he returned and together we each took care of one of the remaining two."

"And where was the dress burning part?" asked her father.

"It was nothing, Father," said Elise. "Once the demon was gone I rolled a bit to put it out and Charles gave me a hand up and we walked back to the Institute."

Her father looked at her for a moment and she was the perfect picture of composure.

"Why only three, I wonder," he said finally.

"Ah, well, we speculated that perhaps changing our pattern threw off their planned ambush," said Charles.

"Charles related to me some stories he learned in the American war just concluded," said Elise.

Lamar nodded. "I rather suspect in four years of fighting, Charles learned a lot of lessons that might be helpful for us to consider. In any case, the unspoken point of this may be that they had an ambush planned for you and generally Moloch's come in packs of no less than five or six. What would you have done against so many and not in full gear?" He raised a hand to forestall a protest. "Never mind. I am sure you will tell me that you would have managed somehow and I have no doubt that you are correct. Elise, you have been channeling a bit of Silas intensity of late and I do not think I have ever seen you fight better. You Charles, while not being particularly large or strong, have a fantastically quick ability to react, choose the most effective strategy in a fight and then kill the demons at the least risk to your person. Together, well, I have been watching you this past month. You are starting to develop that uncanny ability to work together than is the basis for almost all _parabatai_." Elise gave him a startled look. "Oh," continued Lamar, "I know you have no such intent, and you are too old, but you certainly fulfill all the other requirements."

"What is a _parabatai_?" asked Charles

"_Parabatai_ are companion fighters who take an oath to support each other in combat and other ways," offered Lamar. "The oath lasts as long as they live or one of them dies and you cannot take another. They gain increased fighting skills and awareness; also, some runes only work on one's _parabatai_." He paused, "And they are forbidden romantic relationships by the law. But the two of you are much too old anyway," he concluded smiling. "Well, as the director of this Institute, I must commend you on yet another successful mission and warn you at this rate, you will get yourselves killed before you manage to produce any grandchildren for me."

Charles was quite amused to watch the battle of wills played out before him. Lamar looked very relaxed as if the heated look he was receiving did not faze him in the least. Elise had gone from scorching fury to righteous indignation and ended up at a sly smile, which she turned on Charles.

"You should be careful Charles," said Lamar. "When she announced her engagement to Hyrum I am not sure if he even knew it was coming beforehand."

"Do not be silly Father," said Elise, but she looked away from Charles.

Lamar have Charles a more serious glance before speaking. "Charles Duclot-Nichols, in your short time here at the Cornwall Institute, I have found you to be a gracious man, kind and loyal, with a great wealth of experience that will benefit our people and any children you may have in the future. If you should choose to court my daughter you have my full blessing." He stepped around the desk and offered his hand. "Not that you really asked or that you are not old enough to do things on your own."

"Thank you, sir," he said.

"We are going to need to visit Mother, first," said Elise.

"Yes, that would be best," said Lamar. "She will already be upset you started looking without first consulting her."

"Well she should have been here with the rest of the family," said Elise. "I am also going to help Charles look for his family in France."

Lamar shook his head, yet again. "You have always chosen which rules you wanted to follow and which ones to ignore."

"How did you feel when you saw Stiles reunited with Charles?" asked Elise. Lamar gave her a look that said he was not going to answer. "Would you deny that to other family?"

Lamar walked back around the desk and looked defeated. "You know I would not."

"The Clave has its rules, Father, but some of them are stupid," said Elise. "They denied Stiles a brother for thirty years."

"Perhaps," said Lamar, "but there are always reasons. Some of them are good. Now, you two get out of my office and let me get some work done."

Elise ran around the desk like a little girl and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Daddy."


	4. Chapter 4

**Early August, 1866, Paris, France**

"Why did I think visiting Paris in the summer was a good idea?" asked Elise as she bounced back and forth over the cobblestones in the carriage.

"We could have come by portal," said Charles. "That warlock Banes offered to send us off once he found out we were going."

"Listen to you, Charles, letting portal and warlock slip off your tongue like they are everyday occurrences," she teased.

The warlock had been in Cornwall for reasons of his own and met with Lamar for the better part of an hour. Charles had thought him a bit odd, but he was a warlock and who knows what was normal for them.

"Ju-ly or August, they are both vay-re 'ot," she said. The closer they came to Paris, the more her English took on a French accent. She was also given to speaking in bursts of French some of which he managed to understand. They had taken a ship from Plymouth, landed at Le Havre and rented a small coach to take them inland to Paris, by way of Rouen. She had insisted that the French countryside was worth the drive and for the most part, she had been correct, but the dusty, packed roads leading into Paris had been another thing entirely. They were both ready to be done. She had been a wonderful guide and he had learned all kinds of things about France, but strangely the topic of her mother rarely came up. The longer she waited to broach the subject, the more he wondered what awaited them.

"Fortunately, the Institute, it is quite cool," she said. The head of the institute was a man named Ely Fay, who had succeeded Lamar when Elise's father had chosen to leave. Elise described his as a severe, but fair man whose wife was a friend of Elise's mother and a much more warm and open person. They had two sons and a daughter, but she only expected the boys to be in residence. "I suppose it is time to warn you about John and Jonas," she said with a sour face. "I have not seen them for a few years, but things did not go well at our parting. They seemed to think that after a reasonable period of mourning, I would marry one of them, they seeing themselves as being eminently suitable replacements."

"Lovely," he commented.

"Quite," she agreed. "When I turned down John then naturally Jonas assumed it was because I had chosen him. When I turned him down as well, he went running to his father who had the nerve to say I had been leading them on. Needless to say, I left shortly thereafter."

"So they are going to feel the need to challenge me, to show they are the better men, I am guessing," he said. "Otherwise you would not need to warn me."

"Exactly! See how you are," she said in satisfaction, "I do not have to spell everything out for you." Charles thought she was overdoing it a little, another sign of how nervous she was.

"And are they very skilled?" he asked.

"John is solid," she said. "He works hard, is quite large and strong, but not particularly quick. He favors a really big axe for killing large demons and has a couple of smaller axes he can throw to good effect. In sparring though, he is very cautious normally. Jonas though was very talented, but lazy. Some days he could give me a good thrashing and other days you might die of boredom before he would do anything difficult. Just be careful. Jonas at least is sure to ask you for a 'friendly sparring session.'"

"I will keep it in mind," he said. "Have you thought of how we are going to do any searching without them wondering what is going on?"

"Of course," she said, "I am going to show you the city. This is Paris, after all. There is much to see here and unfortunately, plenty of demons to hunt. We shall hunt for demons and family at the same time."

"Well, hopefully, we have the time," he said. "You implied once word got out they were likely to summon me to this Alicante place and question me. Or send someone looking for me."

"Worry about that when the time comes," she said. "Now is the time to worry about my mother. _Nous sommes arrive_!"

The sheer size of the Paris Institute amazed Charles and showed him that the Cornwall Institute was practically a shack by comparison.

"You are thinking that my father left all this to go to Truro," she said. "Well, let us go and meet the reason why. Remember, making her laugh is the quickest way to win her over, but knowing what will make her laugh is the trick. Do your best and remember this is not an interview; I will continue to like you whether she does or not."

"I will take comfort in that," he mumbled.

"You should," she said and pulled on the warning bell. "I love surprises and this one will be choice."

It took about five minutes, but presently a tall solid-looking man appeared and greeted them.

"Well, look who decided to come and visit," said the man. "Welcome, Elise."

"Thank you, John," she said. "This is Charles Duclot. Would you mind taking us to my mother and letting your father know I have come. We have rooms elsewhere if our presence is too much hassle for the staff."

"You know father will complain, but complain even louder if you do not stay," he said. "Come, I think our mothers are in their favorite knitting room." He led them without further conversation deeper into the dark, but thankfully cool hallways of the institute. When they arrived at a particular door, he indicated it with a nod of his head, knocked and identified himself and then told the ladies inside they had visitors.

"I will go and tell my father you are here," he said and walked off.

Charles opened the door for Elise and she walked in as serene as can be; at least, she seemed that way to anyone who did not know what to look for in her features. Charles would have gladly faced a Confederate ambush to avoid walking through the door, but he hesitated a moment and followed her inside.

Of the two women sitting with their knitting on their lap and looking at the door expectantly, it was instantly obvious which one was Elise's mother.

She had an air about her of competence and expectancy, like Charles' school teacher in Missouri who knew what she wanted you to say, expected you to speak up and heaven forbid you say the wrong thing. She was still quite attractive despite her severe look that included her tightly-pulled back hair, drab colored dress and somewhat gaunt look. She must have been beautiful once, but the years had not been kind to her.

"Elise, welcome!" burst out the other woman, who instantly stood and came to hug her warmly. Elise's own mother followed, but the embrace was shorter and less affectionate. "It has been too long, Elise; far too long."

"Well, daughter, based off the concerned yet adoring looks this young man is giving her, it appears you have finally decided to get on with your life."

"And I missed you, too, Mother," said Elise sourly. "Shall I introduce him then? Mother, this is, Charles Dulclot."

"French then?" said her mother. "That is not a family I have met."

"It was my mother's name, actually," said Charles. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Is it really?" said her mother, examining him closely.

"Well I hope it is going to be, else Elise has promised to send me to a monastery high in the Alps and I hate snow," said Charles, smiling.

Elise's mother burst out laughing and then came to offer her hand.  
"Well, to be polite, I should tell you that I am Nicolette Bodine," she said. "We shall see what we can do about avoiding snow, shall we? Now, come and sit next to me. You bear such an uncanny resemblance to an old friend of mine that I cannot get over it." When Charles and Elise gave each other a knowing look she jabbed Elise in the ribs. "Out with it." That was all.

"Mother, this is Miles Nichols' son, come back to us from America," said Elise.

"Oh, my heavens," said the other woman, who had introduced herself as Adley Fay. "Now that you say it, the resemblance is remarkable."

Elise's mother was looking at him like she was remembering something long ago. He expected he would see more of those looks as they began searching Paris for his mother's side of the family.

"Come sit, it seems we have much about which we can speak," said Nicolette. "Has my daughter asked you to marry her yet?"

"Actually, no," said Charles quite cheerfully, "though she is very clever at hinting."

"Well, hinting with men is a good way to be ignored," said Nicolette.

"Well, I am doing my best not to ignore her," said Charles.

Elise had settled down in her spot as if she was about to view a contest; a contest on which she had placed a very large wager.

"Well, you are handsome enough, I suppose," said Nicollette, "but I am not sure what you are getting out of it."

"Oh, you know, she has very pretty … eyes," he said and smiled with too many teeth.

"Well, the eyes are the payment you receive for dealing with her sharp tongue," said Nicolette.

"Perhaps, but if so, they come cheap at the price," he said.

"You have hardly begun to start paying yet," mumbled Nicolette.

"Oh, I do not know," he said. "I think we set some kind of record with the number of demons we have killed together since the day we met. So far I have several bruised knuckles, a slice along the ribs, a slight Jorach Demon blood-acid burn, and I have ruined two coats, three pairs of trousers and four sets of gloves."

Nicollette laughed again, this time slapping him on the thigh appreciatively. "And how did you meet, exactly?"

"Well, I was sitting on a bench in Truro, when the most beautiful woman I had ever seen walked by in front of me on the other side of the street," he began. "Something seemed off with the man that was following her and, not wanting the lady to be harmed, I decided to follow them. When they turned down an alley, I rushed in to help and found her already eviscerating the demon with her parasol.

"Well, imagine my surprise when she tells me to duck and heaves the thing over my shoulder like a spear straight into the eye of a Ravener Demon," he went on expansively. "Then she leaped over me before I could get up, brandishing that blade she keeps in the handle. Well, what was I to do but jump in and give her a hand?"

"A Ravener?" said Adley, "what was one of those doing in Truro, of all place?"

"Well, after some discussion, the staff at Cornwall decided they were trying to turn the table on her in when she tried to ambush them," said Charles. "It was fortunate I came along when I did. I managed to wave my sword around enough to distract the beast while she chopped off its legs one by one. She was even gracious enough to let me deliver the coup de grace after it was immobilized," he finished with a self-satisfied smile.

A loud sniff from Elise's direction said she had had enough of Charles making fun of her.

"It appears romance is dead," said Nicolette. "Fighting is the only thing that interests the young these days."

"Oh, not entirely dead, you should have seen the time I rescued her from Moloch demons when they set her dress on fire," he said.

"I can only imagine," said Nicolette and now she was smiling at Charles and he was smiling back at her. "Well, Charles, if this was some sort of test that Elise set for you, I will have to give you a passing grade."

"I rather thought I deserved an A," he said loftily.

"As long as the A does not stand for accuracy," said Elise, finally speaking.

"Oh, Elise, do not clutter up a good story with facts," said her mother. "Are you saying his version was not true?"

"Well, there was a Ravener, and he did kill it by putting his sword in its head, but the rest was … creative at best," she said.

"Well, well, modesty and a good story teller," said her mother. "What more can you ask?"

"If the verbal sparring is all well and done," said Adley giving Nicolette a stern look, "let us ask Charles how he came to be sitting on a bench in Truro."

From there Charles backtracked and told about his growing up years, the War between the states, his work on the railroad and meeting the old Chinaman, who had sent him to England.

"I was out of money and ready to go home the day I met Elise," he finished.

"Fortuitous indeed," said Addley. "Ah, here is my son."

"Father gave you some time for visiting and would like to invite you all in to dinner," said John.

"Very good," said Adley.

Their first dinner at the Paris Institute was a very interesting affair. They ate with only the director and his immediate family, which included John's wife, Adela, and their three young children, who were introduced as Owen, Cynthia and Julius. Unfortunately, Jonas was also in residence and did nothing to hide a sour expression when Charles was introduced as Elise's 'good friend.'

"Quite a catch you made there; no one else has got a second look for years," he said when they shook hands. "Most of us thought she was going to wear black the rest of her life."

"And thus we see why you cannot find a wife," said Adela. "You would not understand tact or decorum if it was a fiery demon standing right in front of you."

A look from Ely silenced both of them, but Charles immediately sensed this was longstanding argument between the two. Ely had welcomed him and inquired if he had been added to the roles and Elise had quickly jumped in and said her father had sent word to the London Institute and it should be known to the Clave soon enough. Once it was known that Charles had lived on the "American frontier" and traveled all the way to the Pacific Ocean, there was no keeping the curious children from asking questions.

"Have you ever seen a bear?" asked Owen.

"I did once, … uh," he hesitated.

"I am Owen."

"Ah, Owen," he continued. "Yes, I did see a bear once from quite far away."

"Are they really ten feet tall?" asked Julius.

"Well, no, but they do seem rather large," said Charles. "I would not care to walk into one accidently."

"Did you see Indians, too?" asked Cynthia.

"Yes, I did, Cynthia," said Charles.

"Call me Cyndy," she said. "Only my mother calls me Cynthia."

"Well then I shall have to call you Cynthia, as well," said Charles. "Yes, I met several Indians from different tribes and ironically, the few I spoke with at length seemed to agree that there were monsters out there that most people did not recognize."

"Were they as savage and bloodthirsty as reports say?" asked Jonas.

"Are we comparing them to their own society, or the culture they have been practicing for hundreds of years?" asked Charles, looking directly at Jonas. This question seemed to leave him thoughtless, so Charles went on. "The white man came and took their land, gave them diseases and in general broke pretty much every promise or treaty that was ever signed. They certainly live differently, but it appeared they love their children as much as we love ours."

That caused a lull in conversation before John asked, "So if you intend to join us have you begun your weapons training yet?" The tone did not have any of the belligerent flavor with which Jonas had spoken; he was simply looking for information.

"Well, my father began training me when I was five until he was killed by demons when I was twelve," said Charles. "After the first family I stayed with moved west, I had an old cavalry officer and his wife agree to take me in and I helped out around their small farm. When he saw me waving a stick about in practice one day, he took an interest and taught me to shoot and fight with a saber. When the war between the States began he sent me to fight for the Union. We lived in Missouri, but he detested slavery."

"Four years of fighting and another year of living in the West honed all those skills and helped me survive when others did not," he said. "Without all their training I doubt I would have survived the war or all the random demon attacks. I never understood what I was seeing, and no one really believed me, but I believe war and hate and death open up a lot of doors for demons to enter the world and hide. Since finding the Cornwall Institute, Elise has been in charge of my training, overseen by her father."

Jonas snorted loudly but kept quiet at a look from his mother.

"Well, Hyram and Elise were as good a pair of Shadowhunters as I ever met, so you are in good hands," said John. Jonas scowled at him but kept silent.

The boys had had enough of serious talk and were bouncing in their chairs.

"Are the mountains there really so high they block out the sun?" asked Owen.

"Well, they cannot block out the sun all day long, but it does not come up until pretty late in the morning in places," said Charles.

"No more questions until you are finished eating," said Adela. "And chew your food!" she said when they started wolfing down what was on their plates.

"Sir, can I ask how many people live here at the Paris Institute?" said Charles.

"Our numbers are fluid, but in general we have about forty people here," said Ely. "That includes about ten members of the staff and two other family groups that are permanently settled. Presently, though we have been augmented by three other families of Shadowhunters that I requested from Alicante. Paris has been … unsettled, of late. Having lost its war in America, the monarchy is very much in debt and added to the poor of Paris, you now have a sizeable number of veterans who are out of work because they have been crippled. The size and nature of the city make it very easy for demons to hide and for vampires to go about their bloody work without anyone noticing the loss."

"We have been running a steady operation of patrolling for the past three months," added his wife. "We also rotate in Shadowhunters from the country where things have been quieter."

"Which all adds up to lots of dead demons and Downworlders," said Jonas.

"Jonas, you have had too much wine," said Adley severely. "You may leave now." The uncomfortable silence lasted until he had left the table.

"I am sorry for that," said Adley. "Jonas has yet to find his way in the world and his sour personality comes out when he drinks."

After a few more questions from the children, Dan and Hugh, the Fay's personal servants, came in to clear the table and then Flora, the cook's assistant brought dessert. Once finished, Adela took the children off to bed while the rest stayed for further conversation.

"I know you came for a personal visit, but your help would be welcome in light of our current troubles," said Ely. "As a man who has survived a war, I think you will understand better than most the problems we face here. We have as many as three separate groups of vampires at large that do not pay any heed to the established clans rules."

"They have rules?" said Charles in surprise.

"Of course, else it would be open war between vampires and Shadowhunters, which would not serve our cause well," he said. "The local clan is led by a vampire named Violette de Lyon and she has them well under her control, but as Paris has grown unstable the other groups have grown and been difficult to stamp out. We also fear some sort of plot between vampires, demons and warlocks—it is the only way we can explain how so many demons are cropping up in the city."

"This is not something that has become common knowledge," said Elise.

"We have been granted a space of time to take care of our own problems," said Ely. "I will admit, at first, pride kept me from asking for help, but I fear greatly that this has become a problem for the Clave."

"We would ask you to be discreet about this," said Adley, "until the Clave has made a decision one way or the other."

"Of course," said Elise. "And we can certainly help." After a moment's pause she continued and her words surprised Charles. "We are also going to look for some of Charles surviving family while we are here."

That announcement brought silence to the table.

"You mother was French, was she not?" asked Nicolette. "And from Paris, I believe."

"I believe so," said Charles.

Disapproval radiated from Ely and curiosity from his wife. All he said though, was, "Well, you know what you are about and until he has taken the oaths then he is _technically_ not bound by the Codex … but I would think it would behoove you, Elise, to set a good example."

"I suspect that until a person has lost a loved one, they cannot understand what it is like to find them again," said Nicollette, to no one in particular.

Ely looked on the verge of speaking again until a tiny shake of the head from his wife stopped him. He wished them all a good night and told them that rooms had been prepared for them. Nicolette accompanied them to their rooms and asked them both to come inside for a quiet talk.

"I am so glad you have come, Elise," she said. "I wish you would have stayed when you father left … "

"Mother … " said Elise in a warning voice.

"… but I understand some of the reasons you had at the time," she finished smoothly. "However, this search you undertake sounds like a poor idea, not to mention bringing it up in front of the head of the institute."

"I decided it was a bad idea to deceive him," said Elise.

"And nearly gave me a heart attack," said Charles.

"Well, unfortunately after hearing about the current state of the city, our site-seeing tour seemed less and less of a good cover story," said Elise.

"Paris is very dangerous right now," said Nicollette. "Even for a pair of accomplished Shadowhunters, I would not recommend you travel alone at night. Please be careful, dear."

"You know I will, Mother, but you had to see how much it meant to Stiles and Meg, not to mention Father, to understand why we have to do this," she said.

"I understand," said her mother. "Now tell me how my grandchildren are doing."

A thorough update of the goings on of the Cornwall institute took more than an hour and then Nicolette passed on what she had heard of Christopher, Nina and their families. Charles learned a great deal about Elise's family and also the various means of communication the Shadowhunters used to keep track of their far flung society. It appeared that Shadowhunters, if they did not live in Alicante, tended to stay in cultural regions throughout the world. As he listened, it sounded like they were spread quite thinly in places, but reference was made to many cities in the world on every continent, though admittedly, the New World was far less well-established and the sheer expanse of Africa and Asia made it difficult to be everywhere.

It was interesting to see how close the two women were and how Elise refused to be caught in the middle of her parents' conflict. She referenced her father casually and had done much the same thing when speaking with her father. Her mother did not seem to react with the same level of disapproval when Elise mentioned her father, but she would also subtly refrain from commenting either.

Talking of family eased much of the severity in her mother's face and Nicolette's good humor showed more as she talked about her running of the institute library and training the children of the staff. It was nearly nine o'clock before they wound down and went to bed.

"Well, today was a pleasant surprise and no mistake," said Nicolette, rising. "Better than the surprise was how much happier you look, Elise. I think it is safe to say that no one since Hyrum has brought that kind of smile to your face."

"Thank you, Mother," said Elise. "You should come back with me to Cornwall to visit. There might be a very good reason soon."

Her mother gave her a long look. "If you are going to do _that_, why not here in Paris? This was your home for most of your life. And are you going to try and invite Christopher and Nina?"

"Cornwall, Mother, and I am not going to argue," said Elise.

"Well, good luck to you, Charles, at trying to get her to obey better than I can," said Nicolette. "I have not had much luck since she was about five years old."

"I do not intend to try, Madame," he said. "I am just content to stare at her pretty face."

Elise rolled her eyes, but her mother laughed. "Proving again that men are not the smartest of creatures."

"True enough," said Charles. "Not when confronted with great beauty."

"Agreeing with her only makes her more incorrigible," said Elise.

"Nothing I do is going to change your mother," said Charles.

"I take it back," said Nicollette, who came over and kissed him on both cheeks. "This one has managed to retain some intelligence after all."

When she had left, Elise game him a tight embrace and a long kiss. "You were wonderful today. Your handling of Mother was perfect."

"Well, she seemed to enjoy saying startling things and usually people like that go one of two ways—either they get offended when other people say startling things back to them or they laugh that someone finally stood up to their verbal bullying," said Charles. "It seemed to me that your mother was the second type, so I simply responded in kind."

"Well, it seemed to work, so I thank you for the effort," said Elise. "I was rather pleased she did not blow up at the mention of going to Cornwall. Living in Paris so long has made mother something of an elitist. Cornwall will seem like a farmer's cottage in comparison. Well, I am tired and do not feel like laying plans for our search today. Courtesy dictates that we call on all the other Shadowhunters here in Paris, so tomorrow may be busy as well, but we will begin searching as soon as we can."

"Thank you for your help, despite everyone's disapproval," he said.

"Everyone has been disapproving of me for a long time now," she said. "Our search is going to be much more exciting than we might have imagined. Fortunately, the Paris armory is much larger than Cornwall, so I think we should easily be able to outfit you in a well-fitted suit of Shadowhunter gear and some proper blades for hunting."

"I cannot wait," he said.

"Well, I cannot wait for other things as well, so unless we want to create even more scandal then I must be off to my room," she said and kissed him goodnight.


End file.
